


Letters to the Lonely Mountain

by esama



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Epistolary, Gen, Letters, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Sad, hints of slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo writes letters to the Company</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters to the Lonely Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread by Darlene, many thanks

Dear Balin,

 

I have arrived at Hobbiton, to find it not quite to my liking. I do believe I lingered too long in Thranduil's Palace and finally at Rivendell – and while I took my time, time passed in the Shire also. My home is no longer mine, claimed in my absence by relatives, my things sold and scattered to the four winds, my fortunes here gone.

I write this from the Green Dragon Inn – where they still tell stories of the Company, of thirteen rampageous Dwarves who took all the rooms and left them utterly filthy. "Nothing but trouble, those Dwarves," they say. Sometimes I agree, other times I don't. I'm… not quite sure what to do, now.

I am quite wealthy by anyone's standard. The jewels I brought from Erebor and then, well. I did raid the Troll Cave like I told you I would. Well, not quite raid – I took what I could easily carry, for now. It's not so far from here that I can't make another trip, I thought. Just a week's walk back and forth, it would make a nice walking holiday, I thought, after I had settled in at Bagend and felt like having a bit of an adventure. Only, Bagend is no longer mine.

I could reclaim it, I suppose. No matter who resides in it now, it was built by my father, it belongs to me by right – no one but those bitter and cruel would refute my claim to it. I could go to the Shirriffs and the solicitors and set it all right. I could. It would take days, weeks maybe, it would involve quite a bit of arguing and maybe I would even have to pay for it. Certainly I would have to pay to get my furniture back, and transported back home. Only…

I have been away for better part of two years now, most of those two years spent on the road. I took my sweet time returning to the Shire and not merely because it was simply nicer, to walk slow and take in the sights that we scarcely had the time to appreciate before. I spent almost two months in the Misty Mountains, just… breathing in the air.

I could have been here months ago, but I took my time because I knew… that I would not like it. Yes, that is right. I knew I would not be happy, not like I was. I know what that must sound like, after all that has happened. All of my complaining, all that talk of my armchair and my books, my comforts and delights of home – all the day dreaming and wishful pondering. And now that it's within my grasp and yet taken from me by greedy relatives, I find myself…

I wouldn't say I am relieved. But I also don't quite feel like contesting Lobelia's and Lotho's claim to Bagend. It is… a queer sort of bitter thankfulness I feel. As if a difficult choice has been taken from me, and I need not to trouble myself further.

Do you know, that has been the hardest thing about life since I parted with the Company – choosing things again. Choosing what route to take and where to make a camp – it was lovely at first, not having to push quite so far or so fast, but in the end… there is a strange freedom in having to deal with things as they come, rather than choosing them for yourself.

I hope things are going well for you in Erebor, I hope the restoration of Dale is proceeding as you hope. Please write to me if you can, tell me all about it, and everything else besides. I thirst for news of the Company. I long to know how you all are doing.

I will remain at the Green Dragon Inn for a while more but not, I think, for long enough for letters to find me here. Forward them instead to the keep of my grandfather, Gerontius Took at the Great Smials of Tuckborough. It might take me a while, but I will claim them from there.

With all my love and well wishes,

Bilbo Baggins

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Bofur,

 

I got all your letters from before and it heartens me greatly to hear how you're doing, and that everything is well – by now, I'm sure Bombur's broken arm has already healed but give him my well wishes anyway. I have included a number of recipes in this letter for him, traditional Hobbitish cuisine. I hope he finds them interesting.

I have been moving around the Shire for the past few months. I stay at relatives for a day or two, hearing their stories and telling mine, and I move on before I can become a strain on their home life. Often I stay at inns, which I find to be much more agreeable in the end. Hobbit inns always include a tavern, and I find myself much more at home there, sharing a half a pint with happy, drunk Hobbits, and telling them tales of distant lands. Often I need not even pay my own way.

I think rumour of me has spread across all of the Shire now – the Wandering Hobbit, Strange and Peculiar. While I tell stories to happy tavern goers, they tell stories of me to eachother – sometimes, I sneak close to listen. And oh, have I become a sensation here, with my cloak and swords and shield. I think you would enjoy the spectacle I make, wherever I go.

The stories range from me being cursed so that I cannot stay still for longer than a breather, to me having broken my heart so that I cannot stomach the comfort of home again, to me being an absolute lunatic. They look on me with pity and interest and disapproval, all mingled – it is quite amusing, really. But since I have done no one ill – indeed, I helped the Bounders round up some ruffians the other week – no one is very mean to me.

Oh I did forget, those ruffians. A band of hungry Men, for the most part – they came down from the north and swam over the Brandywine, if you can believe it. They weren't evil or anything of the sort, just hungry – they broke into a farmer's barn and ate a good bit of his cheese and salted beef, and they put up a bit of a fight when we came upon them, but overall it was peacefully enough settled – we fed them and a handful of Bounders escorted them to Bree, where the Big Folk can handle them however they choose.

But the fact that they came to the Shire at all worries me. Turns out Fell Things are moving in the north again, and in larger numbers than before. Too large for the Rangers to keep things in check. There are many rumours coming from them, far worse than what I cause in my wandering.

I do like the wandering life. I stay for as long as people can stomach me and for as long as it is interesting for me – I listen and I speak and sometimes I sing. I've gotten quite good at the song, Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold. I haven't a Dwarf's beautiful baritone or a company of excellent Dwarves to back up my singing, but I think I do it justice enough. I've written some songs of my own too, if you can credit it. Nothing good enough to share yet, I don't think, but rest assured I'll write them down and sent them over once I am satisfied with the verses.

It is almost winter here, and it looks to be a cold one. I'm heading north for the cold months, to North Farthing and to Buckland. I don't know yet where I shall weather the winter, but I will stay close to the Brandywine, just in case. If the winter will be as cold as I think, well. It's better I keep to the north.

I am, it turns out, one of the better warriors of the Shire now. It is quite amusing to me, to be honest.

Please give the rest of the Company my love and my well wishes. And I hope you and your family will do well, and keep warm in the cold winter months. It gets so terribly cold there, after all. I'd hate for any one of you to get sick.

Please keep forwarding your letters to Tuckborough, I get them the fastest that way.

All my love,

Bilbo

 

* * *

 

Dear Ori,

 

I got your drawings you sent and oh, Dale does look splendid in the spring time! And I can see the work that has been put into it and into Erebor's gates – I see you all have been hard at work. I really must commend you on it – and pray tell, how did you achieve the colours you used? My Aunt Donnamira is quite beside herself over it – she does some calligraphy and tells me she has never seen such vivid greens. I think she would disinherit me if I did not ask you, where might she get similar inks?

I am staying at Took Hall for the time being – after weathering the winter in North Farthing, I feel I wish to warm myself a bit by the great fires of the Great Smials. I stay with my grandfather for now, but I think I will move to the Inn soon. Took Hall is a… world unto itself, and while full of laughter and joy and pleasure, I am more adjusted to the atmosphere of a tavern. It is, now, where I feel most at home.

Besides, ale and a meal and a bed won by the power of my story telling is sweeter, I find, than ones given by the merit of blood relations. Not that there is much wrong with relying on relatives – I merely find that earned joy is greater.

But for now, I tell my tales to Took Hall and all the great and admirable Hobbits that reside here. They are a very attentive audience – Tooks are quite adventuresome by nature, and they delight in tales of Trolls and Stone Giants and all the Orcs and Goblin skirmishes along the way. And in the meantime, I get to enjoy their tales.

Took Hall, you see, is the home of the Thain – my grandfather, Gerontius Took. And he is no meagre figure, neither as a Hobbit or as person of power – indeed, most of Tuckborough pays tithes to him, rather than to Michel Delving. And of course, Took Hall is a Great Smial, big and spacious, and my grandfather hosts all sorts of wanderers, even those not related by blood. So, whenever anything happens, word of it inevitably find its way here.

A great number of rumours are traded here, and news, and stories. Every night is spent in story telling of one sort or another and while my tales of far lands is, for now, of more interest than the gossip of nearby neighbours, a great deal of other knowledge passes hands here.

More and more Elves leave for the Grey Havens, did you know? Their retinues are seen monthly now, when before you could only see perhaps one a year if so often. Numbering from five to fifty, they leave these shores to join their kin in the Undying Lands, and I cannot help but feel it bodes ill. I know you Dwarves don't hold much respect for the Elves these days, but like all things they too react to the world and its events and ailments – and I feel as if this is a symptom of a greater ill in the world.

I think of Greenwood the Great, now known as Mirkwood, and I feel disheartened by this. I know… I know some of those Elves heading for further shores are Silvan Elves.

But enough sadness. I'm sending you a couple of books on Shire History – I don't know if they will interest you at all or not, but if nothing else, the calligraphy is beautiful. My Aunt Donnamira did quite a number of the illustrations too.

I hope your work at Erebor's library is going well – and believe, I fully understand your pain over the books ruined by time. There is no loss quite like the loss of ancient knowledge. I hope you might find a way to restore at least some of it, before time claims the rest. If anyone can do it, it is you.

I wish you all the best.

Bilbo

 

* * *

 

Dear Dwalin,

 

Thank you and thank you again for the manuals you sent me, and the translations included – done by Ori, I see, and with no small amount of Hobbitish tint to his script too! It is all well appreciated.

I had a cousin of mine construct myself a temporary target with the poles, just as you described – it has helped me quite a bit with practicing the use of my shield. I would not say I have mastered any of the techniques in the manuals, but I have learned a great deal from them, and can say without fear that I can now, effectively, protect myself from frontal assault. I would not count my chances highly against a skilled swordsman, but against a Goblin… I dare say I'd do well enough.

In the meantime, I have accidentally roped a number of my younger cousins into learning the shield and sword. My aunts and uncles are far from happy, but it makes a good nights entertainment – and it wears off some of their excess energy, and no one can fault me for not getting them to bed on time. It is still most unusual in these parts and I think it will take as long as it takes for faunts to grow into adults for people to truly get used to me and my ways.

I have looked into old war knowledge of Hobbits, and would you know, it actually exists. The books are old and scarcely remembered, but there was time when Hobbits went to war for the Arthedain kings – and some of that old knowledge remains. Hobbits were then mainly archers, though, very few used swords and none carried shields as far as I can tell. But then, those Hobbits used much longer swords than my dear old Sting – rapiers and the like, using range as their protection.

An interesting point about Hobbit warriors I found though was the near universal use of throwing knives and such. It too makes sense – we have an aptitude for accuracy when throwing things. I do wonder why I never thought about it – throwing knives. I am having some made for myself as I write this – a set of six, done with the example from old illustrations. I fear the quality will not be too good, Hobbits having so little metal work and next to no knowledge of weapons. Perhaps, in time, I will send an order to the Blue Mountains for a set of throwing daggers.

I had some of the more interesting pages of those old books copied for you, for your perusal and, no doubt, your inevitable censure. Feel free to point out all the flaws in their tactics.

Also, I read your rather strongly worded suggestion concerning armour. I have my fine Mithril shirt, never fear, and I wear it always, so I dare say I am well protected there. And don't you talk to me about the importance of helmets, oh Arms Master of Erebor – there was not a single one in the Company who wore one for more than show. I do believe you all launched your assault on the Orc forces at Erebor without a single helm to share almost your group.

Things are peaceful here – and they have been for a while. The winter was easy in the end and the Brandywine did not freeze, so there isn't much trouble on the road these days. I move to the Southern Farthing soon, but I believe I will weather the winter in Michel Delving this year, so forward your next letters there, to the Inn of the Red Lamb. They know me there, and know to hold my mail if necessary.

With the greatest of respect,

Bilbo Baggins

 

* * *

 

Dear Nori,

 

You would not believe the number of throwing blades I got – not only from you, a fine set I must say, but from Dwalin, Balin, Bofur, and a set of no less than twelve from Bifur too, and a number of other contributions from anonymous sources – and I think I have Glóin to thank for the set with rubies and gold on the hilt! Are they telling tales of me in Erebor? Some of these I do not think came from members of the Company.

So, I am sitting on a hoard of no less than thirty one throwing knives, some of them far too dear for throwing. I have gotten quite a deal of practice done – and I have to say, I am not half bad at it. I think you would be quite satisfied with the range I get with your set, though I had to add colourful tassels on their hilts – they are so small that I kept losing them in the foliage. You would not approve that, but then, I am not aiming for stealthy kills here, merely accuracy.

I read all your letters with great delight. Of course everything the Company writes is dear to me, and the hoard of letters is far more valuable to me than the hoard of fine knifes, but oh, you. The tales you tell me of Erebor! Did Lady Dís really do such a terribly inelegant thing? Truly? I wish I had been there to see it! And Glóin, haha, I can very well imagine him, causing such a ruckus.

I don't mind telling you how much I miss Erebor. You, I think, will understand the strangeness of it, to long for something and at the same time wish not to see it. Ori's drawings and Balin's great tales warm my heart, but it still goes cold at the thought of… of returning. Of being there, again.

They all ask me, you know. In every letter. "Why, when you have no home in the Shire, when your Kin have stolen your Smial and you cannot settle down, why then will you not come back?"

The heart is a fickle thing. A thief's heart, I find, doubly so. But enough of that. Let me tell you instead of all the sneaky things my relatives do, nowadays.

Hobbits are, it turns out, quite thievish now that I look at them in that light. And I think you'd approve of the things they steal. Of course there are those who go for the silver spoons and golden lockets, and of course a Hobbit is not a Hobbit if he has not stolen at least a good dozen carrots from some poor farmer's field. But what we steal mostly are rumours. Gossip is the most valued currency of late nights – who can tell a story first and better than anyone else. And attention and the looks of the audience is the prize.

"Oh, did you hear what this and that did," and, "do you know of how this and that came about this and that," haha. They are no great stories of lies and deception, there are no grand anecdotes of treason. There aren't even great love stories, though one cannot say that the tale of my cousin Drogo Baggins and another cousin, Primula Brandybuck, is not quite romantic indeed. No, the stories shared in the Shire are largely of small, every day scandals. What this person wore, how they spoke to that person, how they dealt with that merchant.

I suppose it is not all that interesting and grand, when compared to Lady Dís' Legendary Rebuttal to Unsuitable Suitors and the Ensuing Political Downfall of the House of Ye in Erebor, but such is the Shire. Small and soft.

I am residing in Buckland right now, guest of my cousins for a little while. I am contemplating heading to the Old Forest for a spell, as I haven't been there since I was a young faunt. Maybe this time I will cause a little less of a ruckus. I will write to you about how it goes later, I think.

I am sending you a number of herbs that I think you might find quite interesting – and a whole cask of Longbottom Leaf too, to tide you over until the plantations in Dale grow stable. Be mindful of the herbs, though, and everything marked with a skull you should not handle with bare hands. I included explanations of everything, of course, but I have no knowledge of their full effects on Dwarves, so take care.

I wish you much luck on your nightly pursuits, my friend.

Bilbo Baggins

 

* * *

 

Dear Bifur,

 

I know you cannot read Westron, and I hope Bofur will translate this to you. I am sending you a number of children's picture books from the Shire, to show to Bombur's children, and some of the Shire's classic toys for study. I know they cannot hold a candle to your Craft, for I've seen you tinker with far nicer toys just to pass the time, but hopefully you will find them interesting.

The box of toys you sent to Tuckborough was well received, I assure you. I know you are in no need of payment, sitting as you all do on the great golden hoard of Erebor, so hopefully the toys I sent back are payment enough. Some of them, I have been told, are very dear to their previous owners. I have included some letters and notes from the very thankful recipients of your toys. I hope you find as much joy in them, as I did in writing them down.

I wish you and your whole family all the best.

Bilbo Baggins

 

* * *

 

Dear Óin,

 

I send you all the herbs you asked for and some others besides – included with them are seeds and though I don't know whether they will grow in Erebor's soil, a number of them can be grown in greenhouses. I included a book on Hobbitish greenhouses and I hope it will aid you in growing your own medicines right at home. I know it can be frustrating, having to get everything dried, with most of the potency long faded.

I am gladdened to hear that things are going well in Erebor and that the flu season has passed without claiming anyone. I know that the relighting of the Great Forges must contribute greatly to that – it must be much nicer there now, that it isn't so cold anymore. But I know that you had no small hand in it too. I wish I had seen your Ward fully realised – Ori has drawn it for me once, and it looks very fine. Certainly, the Shire clinics are nothing compared to it.

In the Shire we don't really get flu seasons, I find – though I know the Hobbits in Bree sometimes have to share in it along with the Men. It might be the Elven blood in us, but we do not get sick very often at all. Only when it gets very cold and there is very little food, but even then it is fairly rare. So I'm afraid I cannot share with you many Hobbitish remedies for the common cold, seeing that it is not very common at all here.

I can, however, tell you a great deal about Hobbitish foot massages – and of Hobbitish _foot_ massages, too. I had a massage just the other day – I sprained my back a little while helping around my cousin Filibert's farm, and had to get myself straightened up again after. And it was done with the lass – Sienna Bracegirdle, very firm and strong girl – standing on my back and toeing all my cramps and kinks away.

Do Dwarves have such an art as that of massage? I know you massaged Dwalin's back at Beorn's house after all the knocks and sprains he took in Goblin Town, but I never did think to ask. Are there such things as Dwarven masseurs? I can only imagine there being many cramps and sprains caused, as you mine deep and beat hard on anvils and all the other truly physically taxing tasks you do.

Which reminds me – I also included a small jar of lotion I was given for my back. It has the sweetest cooling effect on the skin that reaches down to the muscle, which did quite a deal in relieving my back pains. My sprain will pass soon enough, I have no doubt – walking will ease it once I get to moving again – so I thought you would find it very interesting.

I hope things are going well in your Ward and no major sicknesses occur. And I hope both you and your brother are doing well. Glóin's family has finally joined you at Erebor, haven't they? I'm looking forward to hearing how young Gimli likes it at Erebor.

With all the best,

Bilbo Baggins

 

* * *

 

Dear Bombur,

 

Thank you very much for the recipe book you sent me – it was quite taken from my hands by the cooks of Took Hall, I am afraid, but I have gotten to enjoy the Dwarven cuisine they have made, all done according to your instructions. It has been beyond delightful, and you have not only my thanks, but the hearty gratitude of all in Took Hall as well. My Grandfather Gerontius is especially fond of the meat pie recipe, and has it now done every day for tea time.

I am very happy to hear that you and your family are all doing well in Erebor – and that Bifur and Bofur are doing well also. I got Ori's drawing of your family and my, you have quite the Hobbitish family, I must say. So many faunts! Though I suppose you call them bairns, rather than faunts. And another bairn on the way too! Well done my friend, well done indeed.

I understand it is not common for Dwarves, having so many children. I think I heard that ~~Thor~~ - the House of Durin was unusual in having three. And your family is more unusual still. Hobbit families are often about as large as yours, though – my mother was one of twelve, if you can credit it – so it is not so unusual for myself. Well, I was the only child myself, but that was mainly by my mother's choice, and not a decision made for my parents by limits of ability. Still, large families are just the thing in the Shire.

Having gotten your cookbook, the Hobbits at Took Hall wanted to hear more about the great Dwarven Cook they came from, and I told what I knew of your family to everyone here – and I will have you know, you have been given the honour of being considered a truly Hobbitish Dwarf, both on the account of your great cooking and great family. And of course, great joviality too. Your and Bofur's jokes from the Quest still make me chuckle to this day – and they make the Hobbits of Took Hall roar.

If you ever have cause to come to these parts, know that you will have open welcome to any kitchen in Tuckborough.

I have not done enough cooking lately myself, I'm sorry to say. The kitchen is a sacred place for a Hobbit, after all, and I rarely stay anywhere long enough to be given access to the heart of the home, as it is. Sometimes I cook on the road, and usually to your recipes as you were never lacking in your skill with outdoor cookery, but I must admit, I miss the pleasure of taking fresh bread or a pie or just a roast from the oven. Some things of home cannot be truly replicated on the road.

But, on the other hand, there isn't anything quite like a nice bit of bacon cooked over an open fire, smoky and crisp. Especially with some fresh picked mushrooms and some wild vegetables on the side. In fact, I came up with a new recipe for a mushroom sauce which I will include in this letter, along with a book of Grandfather Gerontius' favourite meat pie recipes. I hope you will enjoy them.

And as always, I hope you keep doing well in Erebor, and may your bread always be well baked and your bacon cook nice and crispy.

With love,

Bilbo

 

* * *

 

Dear Dori,

 

I received your packet of teas unspoiled – the seals held nicely and the leaf was very well packed. I just had a cup of it – it has a very smoky taste, rather bitter. In the Shire we prefer much sweeter tea, but I have to admit, I quite like it. It tastes like Erebor and like Dale – and poor old Lake-town, to me. I think that was perhaps your meaning?

I am truly happy to hear that your shop is going well and that trade is returning to Dale and Erebor. I wish I could see it, though with Ori's drawings I can just imagine – the atmosphere must be very fine, perhaps a little too fine for a travel worn wanderer like myself. I admit, I've quite let myself go, these last few years.

I have grown out my hair – can you believe it? All that complaining about my haircuts and trimmings and now that we're long since parted, I put my scissors away and let my hair grow. And oh, but it is a hassle too. Hobbit hair doesn't lend itself well to length – even the lasses who keep their hair long have trouble with it from time to time, and I haven't quite yet managed to nail one down to ask them how they keep theirs. My hair is curly and shaggy and I hear I look like a sheep dog at times. It adds to my already far too scandalous lifestyle and appearance.

But I do like it. It's warm on windy days and a strange comfort in quiet nights. Though sometimes I do wish I had your nimble fingers teaching me how to braid my hair fine and proper, I am fine with my dishevelled appearance for now. I suits me, I think, and it suits my ways.

I am far from the respectable Hobbit you once knew, I'm afraid. Gone are my mother's tea cups and instead I drink your very fine tea from a wooden cup carved from a knot in a tree branch. Gone are my silver spoons, and instead I have a wooden one, which I made myself. Gone are my handkerchiefs and doilies. I am, I am sorry and proud to say, something of a disgrace. You would no doubt chase me out of your tea shop with a broom and many sharp words, haha.

I still crochet, however – and occasionally even knit. The pair of gloves you gave me fell into sad repair, I'm sorry to say, so I had to make myself a new set – I made them as much like as the ones you made, and I think they came out fine enough. They keep my hands warm at least. I am thinking of knitting myself a scarf – perhaps I will weather next winter on the road, rather than as a guest at someone's Smial. It could be interesting, but warmth is an issue. Might be time I added a tent to my backpack.

I hear Ori is doing well in the library and Nori, well. Nori, I hear, is still Nori. I hope you are doing well also – and I think I did read something of a suitor, visiting you often? I am hardly surprised, you are the finest of dwarves, after all, and deserve all the kindly attention you get. Sadly, I have no gifts to send to you this time – I am quite out of funds, and heading for the Troll Cave as we speak, to replenish my purse. But rest assured, the next interesting tea I encounter, I will send samples to you post haste.

I hope you are happy. I hope your tea shop prospers.

Bilbo

 

* * *

 

Dear Glóin,

 

You needed not send me those jewels, my friend, nor the gold – I do quite well for myself, and the gold that remains in the Troll Cave will tide me over to my old age, I believe, easily enough. Gold is far more valuable in the Shire than it is in Erebor – indeed, with my fortunes I am in very real danger of overbalancing the economy here, so I must be cautious with my spending and buying. But I do appreciate the thought of your gift, from you it means the world.

I read your treatise on the Symbiotic Economy of Erebor and Dale and it was most fascinating reading. I have sent it to my grandfather I'm afraid, for he will find it more interesting still I believe, so though there were many very interesting parts in it, I cannot pinpoint them exactly. The supposition of the effect of the Gardens of Dale and the Treaty of Mountain and Wood with the Elves was most fascinating however, and I dearly hope it will all turn out just as you theorised it. Nothing would please me more, than to see the Eastern regions prosper just so.

I am most heartened to hear that Gimli has taken to Erebor with great enthusiasm – though I admit, I never had any fear. Erebor is the finest of mountains and any son of yours could not help but love the place. And taking up training with Dwalin too – he will make a formidable warrior in no time, I'm sure. I am also happy to hear that your wife likes it also, and has made a good home for you all within the mountain. I do hope she and your son will do well in the mountain and, dare I wish you much luck in more children as well? I know nothing would bring the whole of Erebor greater gladness than more children dashing about its great halls.

I'm afraid there isn't much happening in the Shire that I think would interest you – our problems are small and our economy is, well, quite simple. I have come to realise that with only the gold of the troll hoard, I am quite the wealthiest person here, so you will understand that the trade here isn't overly complicated. Most transactions happen quite without any money at all, and people trade good for good or service. Nothing at all like the grand trade treaties of your great mountain.

Have I ever told you of mathoms? I don't think I have, and now that I think of it, I think it would be a terribly scandalous idea for you. They are gifts given freely and freely shared, in their simplest term – things that one does not want, but which are too valuable to be thrown away. A Dwarf, I think, would seek to find a buyer, but a Hobbit… gives them away as gifts. Some mathoms are given and received only once – but others pass hands dozens of times, sometimes hundreds. And most Hobbits own hundreds of mathoms at any given time.

I wonder how such an idea would work with a Dwarves society, with everything you make and give being so very valuable. Weapons are often considered mathoms in the Shire – I am quite the queer one, hoarding mine and never giving them away. Even the throwing knives, though I have so many of them now, I keep. Dwarves do give gifts, I know as much. Do you re-give them, I wonder?

Which reminds me, thank you for the beads you sent me. I have yet to figure out how to do braids, I am afraid, but the moment I learn you may rest assured, I will bind them with the very fine beads you made for me. I am particularly fond on the one you carved Erebor's likeness onto. It is a small piece of ~~ho~~ – the Company, which I am quite grateful for, as I am of all things you and the Company have sent to me. Indeed, most of the mathoms I own are from you, now that I think about it. So thank you.

I do miss you all so very much. And I hope you all the very best.

With my well wishes,

Bilbo Baggins.

**Author's Note:**

> Bilbo the Wanderer because reasons.


End file.
